


Hate is a Strong Word (But I Really, Really, Really Don't Like You)

by secondboys



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-07-27
Packaged: 2017-12-21 13:57:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/901087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secondboys/pseuds/secondboys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one can pinpoint exactly when it began, the flying fists and bloody noses and black eyes and hatred. Some rumors say that it began over a girl, Lydia Martin, and others say it’s merely a release of pent up emotions from two mentally unstable boys. But all anyone really knows for sure is that when you hear the slam of metal against body and the jeers of students, Hale and Stilinski are at it again, and that’s not something anyone wants to miss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hate is a Strong Word (But I Really, Really, Really Don't Like You)

**Author's Note:**

> first teen wolf fic so yeah  
> next chapter should be up sometime this week

No one can pinpoint exactly when it began, the flying fists and bloody noses and black eyes and hatred. Some rumors say that it began over a girl, Lydia Martin, and others say it’s merely a release of pent up emotions from two mentally unstable boys. But all anyone really knows for sure is that when you hear the slam of metal against body and the jeers of students, Hale and Stilinski are at it again, and that’s not something anyone wants to miss.

 

They’re much like a legend, something that parents and children can gossip over. They, with their barbed words and sloppy punches, are the source of entertainment for the dull town called Beacon Hills.

 

It’s chaos, how they fight with a flurry of fists aimed anywhere, really, as long as contact is made and pain is felt. There’s never once an expected move, nothing is scripted. It’s raw, invariable. The only thing that never changes, is the way it ends; two bloody, bruised, panting boys being separated by an extremely pissed off chemistry teacher. And even after all of it, neither boy is quite satisfied, or relieved.

 

But still, they keep at it, fighting at least every other day, whether it be with their words or their bodies, they would fight until someone was deemed the winner.

 

And this particular Monday was no different.

 

***************************************

The telltale sound of body meets locker had everyone rushing to the scene, no one wanting to miss a second of the action. By the time Stiles Stilinski was able to stand, they were surrounded. He glanced at the crowd that had formed and smirked, if they wanted a show, then who the hell was he to deny them one. 

 

He nearly tripped over his own feet as he lunged forward, fury in his eyes. He managed to clip Derek Hale on the cheek. There wasn’t nearly enough force to send Derek, with is 200 pounds of pure muscle, back, giving Stiles no time to prepare for Derek's retaliation. 

 

He moved to duck, but it was too late. There was a crack as Derek's knuckle collided with Stiles' nose, and Stiles groaned at the thought of it being broken again, the third time this year.

 

"Had enough yet, Stilinski," Derek growled out, already positioned to attack again.

 

"Never," said boy grunted, cracking his reddening knuckles. He kicked out, managing to knock Derek’s feet from under him. He knew he didn’t have much time though, for some reason his hits and kicks never really affected Derek the way they should. In fact, he’d never even seen the other boy even bleed after one of their many brawls.

 

But that was a thought to ponder another time.

 

Derek took Stiles’ moment of hesitation to rush forward, shoving him face first into his own locker. 

 

The bell, signaling that everyone was late to third period, rang, and the crowd dispersed. But Derek and Stiles stayed put. They had to finish this. They always did.

 

Derek flinched at the shrill ring of the bell, and Stiles took his chance to escape. He shot an elbow back into Derek’s neck and snuck under his arm, when he had jerked in surprise.

 

They moved, seemingly, in slow motion, both of them ready to pounce at each other once again. But before either of them could land any hits, they were being pulled apart by a large African-American teen and a boy with an amazingly crooked jaw.

 

“Let go of me, Scott,” Stiles grunted as he struggled against the boy with the crooked jaw. Scott McCall was Stiles’ best friend since kindergarten and always ready to pull Stiles away from Derek.

 

Scott did not budge. “Stiles, seriously, remember what the principal said? Next time you’re sent to his office, he’s calling your dad. I know you don’t want that,” he said.

 

At these words, Stiles stilled, falling back into his best friend’s arms. He knew his dad had enough on his plate, and he really didn’t want to bother him with his stupid problems.

 

Derek barked out a laugh, “Giving up already, Stilinski? Do you do everything your boyfriend tells you?” 

 

It took all of Stiles’ control to not retaliate, instead turning and walking in the direction of the class he was already 15 minutes late to: chemistry.

 

He heard Boyd scolding Derek for recklessness and furrowed his eyebrows when Boyd mentioned Derek “revealing himself”, whatever that was supposed to mean.

 

As he neared the chemistry classroom, Stiles tried to come up with a reasonable excuse as to why him and Scott were late. His plan, however, was destroyed when they entered the classroom, and Scott announced, “Found him, Mr. Harris.”

 

Of course, thought Stiles, Harris sent Scott. There’s no way I’m going to be able to talk myself out of detention this time. And they’re going to call my dad, and he’s going to be so disappointed. I don’t know if I can bear to see him disappointed in me again.

 

“Thank you for joining us, Mr. Stilinski. As I was just telling Derek here, you will have detention every night for the next two weeks, from four until six in the library. Lucky for you, I’m not calling your father. Not even I want to get on the sheriff’s bad side. Hopefully some detention time will cause a change in your behavior, but if it doesn’t, I have no issue extending this punishment. Now, please sit down,” said Harris.

 

Stiles glared at Derek, wondering how he had gotten to the class so quickly, since they were coming from the same place and Stiles hadn’t seen Derek pass them in the hall. 

 

Well, thought Stiles, Derek is the fastest player on the lacrosse team.

 

He slumped down in his seat, quietly grumbling over the details of his punishment but secretly glad Mr. Harris hadn’t gone as far as to call his father.

 

“Now that our troublemakers have joined us,” Mr. Harris began, turning to the chalkboard, “we can begin chapter 11, chemical solutions.”

 

It was going to be a long day, Stiles thought, sliding down into his desk.

**************************************************

 

Stiles leaned against the set of lockers that Scott and his girlfriend, Allison, were busy making out on following the final bell. Usually, he would have avoided the couple at all costs, but he was trying to put off the inevitable detention, even if it meant dealing with the inseparable pair and their inability to keep their tongues out of each other’s mouths

 

He huffed out a breath in annoyance, as Allison let out a breathy moan, which Stiles seriously did not need to hear. Why couldn’t Allison and Scott ever do nice things like talk about their day, or anything that did not involve those noises?

 

Scott pulled away, narrowing his eyes at Stiles, “Dude, not that I don’t love your sudden interest in wanting to hang out with Allison and I, but didn’t you have to be in detention five minutes ago?”

“Shit,” Stiles muttered, realizing Scott was right. He scrambled to pick his bag off the clumsily ran in the direction of the library, ignoring the laughter behind him from his so-called best friends.

 

He was so screwed.

**********************************************

 

At first glance, the library seemed to be devoid of the chemistry teacher. Relieved, Stiles made his way over to where Derek sat. However, before he reached the table, a large hand landed on his shoulder. 

 

“Fuck,” he mouthed.

 

“Late again, Stilinski?” The owner of the hand said. “I guess you’ll have to join me for an extra week, until you can learn to be punctual. Sit down.”

 

Stiles hurried to obey Harris’ commands, not wanting another week added to his already three-week-long punishment. He slid into the seat furthest from Derek, throwing his bag to the floor. He willed the next two hours to go as fast as possible.

 

Mr. Harris shuffled some papers around on the table where he was seated. He pushed his glasses up from where they had slid and smirked. “For the next two weeks, or three, in Stilinski’s case, I am having you help our lovely librarian, Delores, by organizing the shelves until they are a perfect example of the Dewey Decimal System.”

 

Stiles groaned because, as mundane as the punishment seemed, the library was tragically out of order and cluttered. At one time, he had tried to find a book on male circumcision and, where he should have found books on that subject; he found several books on Greek Philosophy and one on how to train a rabbit. Derek seemed to realize this too, as his eyebrows got impossibly closer, and his permanent frown deepened. Stiles tried not to laugh at the shocking resemblance he had to grumpy cat.

 

Harris smiled, obviously pleased with this reaction. “Well, get to it. I’ve got things to do, so I am leaving you alone, but you better not think this means you can slack off. If you do, I will know, and you will not go unpunished.” With that, he gathered his papers and departed, leaving the teens alone.

 

“Dick,” Stiles muttered, getting up from where he was sat. He turned to Derek. “Get up. We might as well get started. Maybe, if we’re lucky, if we finish this early, we’ll get less time.”

 

Derek rolled his eyes but made no move to stand, instead pulling out his phone.

 

Stiles narrowed his eyes. “Really, man, you’re going to make me do this all on my own? Fine, fuck you.” He spun on his heel and made his way towards the front of the library.

 

He might as well get this over with.

*****************************************

 

It was ten minutes later when Derek finally appeared at Stiles’ side. He raised a single eyebrow at Stiles, silently asking what he had to do to help.

 

Stiles huffed. “I’m taking every book off of each shelf and moving them over there,” he said, pointing towards the corner. “From there, we’ll organize them and put them back on the shelf. So, put your lacrosse muscles to use and grab some books.”

 

Derek rolled his eyes, but, thankfully, followed Stiles’ instructions. He grabbed several more books than Stiles would have been able to carry in one shot and headed over to the corner, gracefully setting them down next to the stacks Stiles had already brought over.

 

Stiles smiled, if Derek listened to him like this for the next two weeks, maybe detention would not be as bad as he feared.

 

Stiles was not that lucky.


End file.
